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Jon wakes up in Stephen’s bed, and it’s so late (or is it early?) that natural light is beginning to stream through Stephen’s bedroom window. The room is cast in a navy to robin’s egg blue hue, and it makes Stephen’s grey-brown hair shine inky black against his stark white pillow. For a few moments, he just watches Stephen sleep.
He observes how his eyelashes fan out against his cheeks. He watches his nostrils barely expand and contract as he breathed. He notes the way the sheet over Stephen’s chest rises and falls with each breath. Jon smiles. Stephen looked so peaceful.
But it was time to go. Tracy would worry, he tells himself. Carefully, Jon climbs out of Stephen’s bed, and even the gentle rustling of the sheets sounds deafening. He makes quick work padding about the room on the balls of his feet, trying to relocate last night’s clothes.
He’s pulling on his jeans when Stephen wakes.
“Were you really going to leave without saying goodbye?”
He sitting up and blinking at Jon as he tries to fully wake himself up. Without his glasses on and with sleep still loosening his muscles, he look’s ten years younger.
“I—I didn’t want to bother you,” Jon finishes lamely.
Stephen sits up fully and reaches for his glasses. He puts them on and checks his phone.
“It’s only 4:30. Why don’t you come back to bed?”
“Stephen, I can’t.” Jon continues redressing. He buttons up his shirt as Stephen watches, and he flushes with shame at treating Stephen like this. “You know I would if I could.”
“Sure. I don’t mean to sound like a desperate boyfriend,” Stephen says, trying to sound more okay with the whole thing than he really did.
“Stephen…”
“Jon, really,” he says with a big smile. The one he usually reserved for celebrities he didn’t know, but had to interview for the show. The ones he didn’t care about and the ones who didn’t care about him. “It’s okay. Believe me.”
Jon doesn’t believe him, but he laces up his shoes anyway. He walks over to Stephen’s side of the bed.
“You just worry about getting your beauty rest, okay? You still have a show to do tonight.” He leans down and kisses Stephen’s cheek. Stephen doesn’t reciprocate.
“I’ll call you later, okay?” Jon promises from the bedroom door.
“Okay, Jon.”
Jon doesn’t say anything else when he walks out, even though every cell in his body is screaming at him to go back to Stephen. He doesn’t, and Stephen hears the door slam a little harder than was necessary to close it.
Stephen takes his glasses back off and decides to try to settle in for a few more hours of sleep. He pulls Jon’s pillow towards him to hold. It still smells like him too, still warm. It’s almost close enough to the real thing, and he convinces his brain to fall asleep again.
When he wakes up the second time that morning, it’s to himself all alone in his bed. It was like Jon hadn’t even been there at all. Stephen’s eyes rove around the room, looking for some sign that he hadn’t dreamed the whole thing.
He grabs his phone, hoping for a text from Jon.
Sent 4:34 A.M.:
Stephen, I’m sorry I didn’t stay. You know how hard it is. I’m retired from a lot of things now. I had a great time last night, and I miss doing, well, all of it. Love you. –Jon
Stephen swallows hard and wipes at his eyes. He texts back immediately.
You can come back *any* time. Love you too, Jon. –SC
Maybe, just maybe, there was still a chance for them after all.